


The Fading Light of Heaven

by Littleladynightshade



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Angst, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Needs a Hug, Bad Ending, Gen, Guns, Hurt Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, first fic on here, lmk if additional tags need adding, or ever, pls be nice, police mention, sorry this is short, technically ig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26419330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littleladynightshade/pseuds/Littleladynightshade
Summary: A bad end of i think i lost my halo by WhatTheHeckIsGoingOn
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Thomas Sanders
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	The Fading Light of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [i think i lost my halo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24165862) by [WhatTheHeckIsGoingOn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatTheHeckIsGoingOn/pseuds/WhatTheHeckIsGoingOn). 



> There's a part in the original where Fallen Angel brings up that if he had been shot by the police, the Prince would have been fine with it. Would he?

It had been a long time coming. The city’s most notorious villain, the Fallen Angel, had finally been caught.  
Well, nearly.  
He was currently engaged in a heated battle against that beacon of goodness, the Prince, grappling and struggling while the police tried to get a clear shot. Blows had been traded, but with the Prince’s larger size and faster healing left the Fallen Angel at a distinct disadvantage. Angel was only using one arm at this point and favoring one of his legs, while his opponent only looked like he had a few bruises. With any other opponent, the Prince would have offered mercy much earlier, or at least a cursory telling to give up. Fallen Angel got no such luxury.  
BANG! BANG! Two gunshots rang out into the air, deafening for a moment, then spreading silence in their wake. The world seemed to stop for a moment as everyone took in the Fallen Angel’s rapidly darkening hoodie. He looked down at himself in confusion, not realizing that it was his own blood seeping through his layers of clothing.  
Sound and movement came back to the scene in a rush as it hit him that he’d been shot. He managed to use his powers to keep everyone frozen for just a second while he tried to fly away, but he didn’t get very far. He had to settle for running as well as he could with two gunshots to the torso and a broken leg.  
The Prince quickly shook off the flimsy, last-ditch attempt at mind control and turned to one of the officers. Apparently, they were having a harder time shaking off the Fallen Angel’s influence, so he simply retrieved the handcuffs from their belt and went to find his opponent.  
He was easy to find. He had seen which direction Angel had gone and simply gone that way until he had found the bloody trail he had left. He followed the trail into a small alley and discovered the Fallen Angel sitting with his back to the wall and and his hands at his gut trying to put pressure on the wound.  
The Prince’s eyes trailed over his opponent’s broken form. He was still breathing, good. They could put him on trial. He had something clutched in his right hand, a small piece of gray cloth. His mask. They could finally find out who the criminal was that had plagued their city for so long. The fallen Angel looked up at his footsteps, and Thomas’ heart stopped.  
He knew that face.  
The eyes, the color so similar to Thomas’ own, shadowed underneath from lack of sleep. The faint freckles that he couldn’t see but knew were there.The mouth, which currently was open, panting, but Thomas knew what it looked like smiling, happy. The most recent time it had been that way had been the last Christmas before the divorce. He had it as a card on his desk.  
The body in the alley belonged to his son, Virgil.  
He rushed to Virgil’s side, apologies on the tip of his tongue and looking for a way to help stop the bleeding. Then Virgil looked at him and said the one word that could have killed Thomas on the spot.  
"Dad?" he asked softly.  
Thomas almost started sobbing right then. "Yeah, Virge. I’m right here."  
"I’m sorry." Thomas panicked.  
"What do you have to be sorry for, bud?" he asked as gently as he could.  
"Got in a fight. Big strong dude. Think he hates me," Virgil slurred.  
Thomas realized that Virgil was hallucinating or something else odd. He didn’t realize that he wasn’t talking to his civilian father, he was talking to his alter ego that had just beaten him up, gotten him shot, and that presumably hated him.  
"It’s okay, baby," he reassured. "I’m gonna pick you up, okay?"  
Virgil shrugged noncommittally. As gently as he could, Thomas picked his son up in a bridal carry. Virgil whimpered a bit from his injuries, the injuries he had caused his brain helpfully added, but was otherwise quiet. Not for the first time in his life, Thomas wished he could use his healing powers on other people. He wished he had been able to stop his past self from deciding that the Fallen Angel was public enemy number one. He wished he had talked to his son, found out how he was really doing, made sure that he would never turn to villainism. Although… now that he thought about it, the worst thing Virgil had done was rob one bank, and it had seemed to be mostly on accident. His swirling hurricane of thoughts would have to wait until they could get to Patton for some medical care,  
"It’s okay, Virge. You’ll be perfectly fine," he reassured his son’s now-cooling body.


End file.
